Thoughts In Stasis
by Oren-Namikaze
Summary: Now that I'm left with my thoughts, trapped and protected and alone, I cannot run from them any longer. The deeper a coma my body sinks into, the more helpless a victim I am to my own guilt, our own fate.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Square Enix or Final Fantasy franchise.

AN - I recently began re-playing Final Fantasy XIII and listening to original soundtracks to FFVII, VIII, X, XI, and XIII. I've forgotten how amazing the soundtracks are and how much emotion they can bring to mind. I'd never really enjoyed FFXIII's ending, but thinking back on it, I see it in a different light. A slightly sadder one. This is my spoof of a one-shot. I haven't written in a very long while, but I needed to dust myself off sometime.

...

So, this is the end of the beginning. Our beginning. And I thought I was so close to something. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the time we had together, no. But it ended too quickly, too abruptly, for me to truly express to you what I really felt; to tell you what I needed to say. To do what I needed to do. Wanted to do. Want to do. Even now in our imprisonment, our freedom, with my limbs crystalized, my body immobilized, my mind can finally take the time to form the thoughts that I've been fighting back, pushing from my consciousness.

I always told myself to face it later. I believed it was too much for me to handle at the time. Even now I have to gently ease my way into these thoughts. The shear emotion from them threatens to tear through my chest, my throat, gripping me in guilt enough to feel that liquid sheen run across my face. Would I even be able to feel that in my current state of being? I'm not sure. This barrier around me both protects and binds, preserving me. I wish my eyes were open. Maybe then I'd be able to look at you across from me, in the same petrified state I find myself in. If I could gaze on you for the rest of time it'd be enough. How do I know you're really there without seeing you? I don't have a complete answer to that. What I do know is that I've always known when you were around or not. Physically or mentally doesn't matter. There's a feeling that permeates through my body whenever you're near, a feeling similar to being flushed. I don't know how to describe it. You make me nervous and anxious and excited at the same time. And when you touch me, even brush against me, I can't seem to breathe. But then you'd look at me with that face full of worry and the guilt would build again as I'd look away and lie to you because I couldn't tell you how I truly felt.

You always had that tendency to be particularly protective of me, sheltering me from what you thought I couldn't handle. I doubt you even thought me capable of handling who you are. Is that why you never completely let me in, not until our fate was realized? Were you scared of what I might've seen because you thought me too innocent, too soft and naïve, to handle you? I know what I am. I am naïve and soft and I run from my feelings like the coward I am, but I cannot hide from you. I will never sacrifice the ones I held dear for my vices. I would've rather ended a cieth. I could never give you up completely, even if you chose a different path. You're carved permanently in me, now a part of me whether you accept that or not.

And you might not. Not since I first realized what she meant to you. She has her own problems admitting what she feels completely, in trusting you, though you both mutually appreciate each others' company and opinion. Both, strong personalities. Both, searching for your own paths to follow, protecting those you love. That's what I admire in both of you. You've always been the strength to my weakness and I, the warmth to your cold.

Here, together, I can at least dream of what might've been. What possibly could be once we awaken again, perhaps to another world in another time. Until then maybe I can come to terms with what is sealed away in my heart, like I am in this stasis, and finally tell you what I've been waiting for all this time.


End file.
